Bring Him Home
by ExquisiteRose
Summary: DreamBoy!Klaine AU. Moving to a another city was nothing new for Blaine Anderson. As he watched the trees pass through the window, blurs of green and brown, he wondered how long they'd manage to stay here this time. (Warnings inside. Story may trigger. Major spoilers for both Glee and Dream Boy).


**A/N**: Basically a _Dream Boy_ inspired Klaine fiction, with major deviations from both plots, but sturdy enough paths to find connections.

Two parts only (so two-rather long-chapters.. When I say "rather long" I mean 5k to 9k each-this part is more than 7k). First part is complete, second part is in progress, although it is outlined in my mind. It's really just a matter of typing it, which is hard to accomplish right now. I've never just completed something before posting it, and I believe the reason I can't (finish before posting, that is) is because I don't know if the first part is any good to anyone but me.

So review? It'll help inspire me to finish!

**Characters/Pairings**: Pretty much everyone is in this story-but not everyone is a major character. People with the most show time are Blaine, Kurt, Burt, Mr and Mrs Anderson, Puck, and Karofsky. Kurt/Blaine is the pairing. There's also a mention of Mike/Tina.

_Since this is an _AU_, I will say you can _assume _Rachel/Finn are together and Burt/Carole are dating/living together, but it makes _no mention of either_. However, Kurt is _not out _for _most _of this fiction, although it's not a _huge _issue until the end._

**W/C**: 7623

**Warnings/Tags**: Angsty (I'll tell you up front, this is a _sad story_. A tragedy, almost). Triggers for rape, incest, graphic violence, abuse (emotional, physical, etc.), major character death/ambiguous ending. There's also (_consensual_) _underage _sexual content (hand jobs, blow jobs). Tags for Klaine, romance, hurt/comfort, angst, tragedy, dependent behavior, and non-canon plot. Homophobia and internalized homophobia. Slash. Spoilers for _Dream Boy_, and minor, minor spoilers for episodes from Seasons 1-4 of _Glee_ (Consider youself warned).

Story title from a Les Miserables song.

Story not betaed. All mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Glee_. I also do not own _Dream Boy_. I don't own any songs or song lyrics mentioned herein. How about this? Anything you recognize, I do not own. Any original plot and characters belong to the author. The author is no way affliated with the makers/writers of _Glee _or _Dream Boy_. No copyright infringement was intended in writing this.

* * *

Moving to another city was nothing new for Blaine Anderson.

As he watched the trees pass through the window, blurs of green and brown, he wondered how long they'd manage to stay here this time.

* * *

Blaine's eyes roved the street, taking in the common two-story, white-picket fence house, stark and lonely, sitting only beside a garage shop, a mechanic's shop. The sparse flecks of grass surrounding the house were dirtied by thick mud from the yesterday's heavy rain. The clumps of clouds hanging dismally in the sky caught Blaine's gaze for several seconds, the brief parting of the clouds letting in sunlight pulled his eyes down as they drove up to their new house.

Blaine's eyes widened when the sun shone on a boy of exceptional beauty, in a cozy long-sleeved thermal, snug burgandy jeans, and stylish black work boots. He waved at Blaine as he pulled on messy overalls, stained with oil and dirt, over his neat clothing and a tennis hat, with Hummel's Tires and Lube printed on the face of it, over chestnut hair.

Blaine's jaw went slack when he recognized the name.

Burt Hummel was an old friend of his dad's. Well, maybe _friend _was too strong of a word. They were acquaintances when they had attended high school together and had managed to talk on and off after when Mr. Anderson had gotten into minor spots of trouble. Blaine remembered Burt as a kind man, big and fatherly, his wife Elizabeth lovely as can be.

The last he'd heard from the Hummels, Elizabeth had died. That'd been years ago. Blaine couldn't imagine why Burt Hummel would want to help them now, considering his family hadn't exactly kept in touch considering his father's.. tendencies.

Not that Burt knew about those, Blaine reminded himself, or else Burt would have done something, surely. Surely.

Their car pulled into the driveway and parked. Blaine opened his door and slid neatly out, suitcases pulled behind him. He grabbed the key from his mom and walked to the door, putting his suitcases on the floor while he unlocked the house. He walked up and put his cases in the room he assumed was for him, considering the other room was a masters. He resolved to unpack later and headed back downstairs to greet the Hummels. His dad would get angry if he was anything less than civil and grateful.

His mom and dad were already with Burt, exchanging pleasantries. He caught his dad's eyes searching for him and hustled to where his parents were. His father's gaze settled on him, heavy and unpleasant, but Blaine pushed it aside, manners coming to the forefront.

Be respectful, be polite, be respectful be polite _berespectfulbepolite, _the mantra drilled though his mind.

He extended a hand to Burt, who returned his handshake heartily. "Mr. Hummel," Blaine greeted politely.

Burt snorted. "It's Burt, son," he said gruffly, clapping Blaine's shoulder. "Kurt!" he called over his shoulder. "Come say hi to the Andersons, will ya?"

Kurt walked towards them, polite smile firmly in place. His eyes warmed slightly in recognition when he saw Blaine. Blaine was surprised when Kurt pulled him into a hug, which Blaine returned hesitantly. Kurt's arms wound around his neck, firm but gentle and warm. Blaine shivered.

He wasn't used to people touching him with such innocent affection.

Kurt pulled back, hand resting on Blaine's shoulder, and smiled widely. "Don't tell me you don't remember me," Kurt exclaimed incredulously. His smile faded slightly when Blaine didn't respond. "You _do _remember me, don't you? We used to play with Power Rangers together when we were younger, but _my _Power Rangers were always the ones with the _fabulous _weddings." Kurt's smile had returned.

Blaine smiled tentatively back, remembering Kurt distantly. He remembered strong feelings of friendship and safety and held tight to them, so he wouldn't forget. He didn't remember a lot of things from when he was a child, and he wasn't sure he wanted to; but he did want to remember Kurt, so he tried harder.

"Sure, I remember you," Blaine replied easily with a smile. Kurt grinned.

Blaine's father cleared his throat rudely. Blaine jumped away from Kurt, who fixed him with a surprised, and slightly hurt, look, before his face cleared. "Thank you, Burt, for helping my family out. You've always been a good friend," Blaine's father said, clasping a hand to Burt's shoulder.

Burt rubbed his head, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Don't mention it," Burt replied, waving him off.

They all stood there awkwardly for a moment or two before Blaine's father broke the silence. "I guess we'd better unpack, then," he announced, pulling his hand away. Burt nodded.

"We'll see you later, then," Burt said. "Blaine, you're always welcome."

Blaine nodded and followed his parents to their new house. Kurt's eyes followed him there.

* * *

Blaine didn't sleep easily that night, haunted by blue eyes that turned an inky black and ghost footsteps on the hallway floorboard. Every creak snapped his eyes open, and he pulled his blanket more tightly around himself, shivering.

Waiting.

* * *

School was certain to be dreadful.

Blaine found school changes to be the most intolerable thing whenever they moved. Many would think it was packing, considering all his clothing, but it was, without question, changing schools.

Ever since he'd left Dalton, none of the schools had measured up. Then again, none of the schools had boarding rooms that got him out of his house for months at a time and miss holidays, if he played his cards right.

Then, there was making new friends. Blaine was friendly, talented, smart, good-looking. No vanity here, just facts; he knew he was desirable to the opposite sex, but he wasn't attracted to them. Lately, actually, he hadn't found himself attracted to anybody except.. But no.

Coming out was something Blaine had seriously considered before rejecting. He doubted they'd live here long, and, in that case, he didn't really need to come out. He wouldn't deny it, but he wouldn't advertise it, either. He couldn't. His father didn't like that. Too much attention, he'd say. And we can't have that, can we, Blaine?

Blaine shivered and shook his father's voice off. He found his locker quickly and shoved the books he didn't need in there. Closing and locking it, he wandered to his first class: English. Let the introductions begin, then.

* * *

When Blaine got to lunch hour, his hair was ruffled, his tie was askew, and his papers were piled haphazardly in his binder, not even arranged in the rings anymore. He didn't have time after they were knocked onto the floor when the bell rang. Apparently, new students weren't openly welcomed in William McKinley High School, especially not ones with old-fashioned hair, polite manners and fashionable clothing.

Blaine straightened himself out briefly in the bathroom and headed to the cafeteria.

Spots of red and white blurred in the cafeteria, which made sense because the most condensed sections seemed to consist of jocks and cheerleaders. Several different sectors and groups varied throughout the cafeteria, however, and Blaine rubbed his neck nervously, before slipping in line, pulling his satchel more tightly over his shoulder, fingers drumming anxiously on his thigh. He got his portion of lunch and carefully navigated through the cafeteria. He glanced around nervously before eventually settling for a table where a girl he'd met in his history class sat. Tina saw him walking towards her and waved him over enthusiastically.

"Blaine!" she exclaimed when he was in hearing range. Blaine smiled. She was nice and was officially his first friend at McKinley. If he wasn't counting.. well, he wasn't, was he? "These are my friends, Artie, Mercedes, Finn, Rachel, and Brittany; and this is my boyfriend, Mike," she said.

"Hi," Blaine said to the group at large, waving nervously. He felt nervous and flustered, hands sweating, wanting them to like him. What does that matter? a voice asked in his mind, you're leaving anyways.

They all waved back. Blaine let himself relax as their conversations eased over his ears like sloshing waves.

Then, a high, pearly voice broke the calm water. "Blaine," Kurt greeted neutrally. Blaine's head snapped up. Kurt was wearing tight black pants, a loose green t-shirt, and a snug leather jacket, which fitted him perfectly. Not that Blaine was noticing. Much.

"Hey, Kurt," he replied awkwardly. Kurt sat down next to him, two boys sitting down with him, both across the table, one a bulky teen with stress lines on his forehead, and the other with a mohawk and a set jaw.

"This is David and Noah," Kurt introduced them. "Guys, this is Blaine."

David leveled an intimidating glare his way, while Noah waved lazily and corrected, "The name's Puck, Princess." Kurt flipped Puck the finger casually, eyes on Blaine throughout the exchange.

"Hello," Blaine said, extending a hand cordially to first David, then to Puck. Neither moved, although Puck smirked amusedly, and he put it back down awkwardly. Tina and her friends eyed the new arrivals warily, although Blaine noticed Brittany smiled and waved at Kurt, and Kurt smiled back.

"So, Blaine," Tina piped up somewhat awkwardly in the lull in conversation, "Do you want to join Glee club?"

And Kurt smiled so wide that Blaine blurted an earnest, "I'd love to."

* * *

Kurt pulled Blaine to a seat next to him as soon as Blaine entered the choir room. Blaine had met the director, a Mr. Shue, who seemed nice, and the other Glee students. It seemed he'd met a majority of them at lunch though, because Finn, Mike, Artie, Tina, Brittney, Rachel, Puck, and David all were seated in the choir room, David and Puck sitting close to Kurt. David was staring at Blaine, and Blaine looked away uncomfortably, refocusing his attention onto Kurt, who was talking about their childhood.

"I remember your bow ties," Kurt said suddenly in a lull in conversation. "That's how I really recognized you, because your tie had been so different, yet birght and daring, although my dad thought you could've been Cooper, but he'd never wear such a colorful tie" Blaine nodded, and Kurt continued. "I loved your bow ties. They were very.. you." Kurt looked at his tie with a scrunched nose.

Blaine smiled shyly and agreed, fiddling with his tie. Then, he auditioned, and he was in Glee club, officially. Tina cheered, while David glared. Kurt clapped and smiled, pleased, and Blaine's stomach warmed proudly.

* * *

Blaine wore his favorite bowtie the very next day, a cerulean one with smaller, white bowties dotted all over, one Kurt had given him when they were small, before he'd had to move.

Kurt's beaming smile the next day was worth every insult and bruising push into the walls, worth every dumpster dive and swirly.

It was worth everything.

* * *

"Blaine!" Kurt called one day as Blaine was leaving the choir room. Blaine turned. "Need a lift?" Kurt asked, twirling the ring of his keys on his finger with a smile.

In Kurt's car, humming as Kurt drove along the road, Blaine relaxed. His legs ached from walking home the past few weeks, but he hadn't regretted it. More time spent away from home was time well-spent.

Kurt was on his way to his dad's shop, so he said he could give Blaine a ride. He would have given him rides from the beginning, but Blaine had always run off after Glee before Kurt could offer.

"Want to play some music?" Kurt asked, pushing the power button on the radio and adjusting the dial for the volume. He fiddled with his iPod for a minute, sliding it unlocked, and told Blaine to make a choice while an instrumental filtered through the silence.

Shuffling through the various types of music, which were truly unlimited and trendy, Blaine clicked on Teenage Dream and smiled when the music pumped through the speakers. He hummed the music softly and sang the lyrics under his breath, fingers tapping absently to the beat along his thigh.

He was conciously avoiding Kurt's gaze. Although they talked everyday, Blaine was still very much the new kid, and Blaine and Kurt were still strangers, even if their Power Rangers had married so constantly and in such different varieties that they might as well have been related. They knew each other when they were children, and Blaine still couldn't remember much about it except the tangible feelings of safety and love; and was that just the view of a scared child? Had Kurt pitied him? Maybe Kurt wouldn't like the person he was today, just like his dad had said.

Who would want an old, used, worn-out version of the fun, bubbly child he used to be?

"Blaine," Kurt said, hand reaching across the console grab Blaine's hand and squeeze it reassuringly. Blaine smiled as Kurt's thumb rubbed comfortingly along his palm before Kurt retracted his hand to drive. Blaine looked up at Kurt, and he felt sad suddenly for the doubt he'd felt for Kurt's and his friendship as children, for the friendship they had now, because it obviously meant-means-a lot to Kurt, even if Blaine couldn't remember specific details and remained slightly distant as a precaution. Kurt's wide and honest blue eyes were full of concern and warmth when Blaine looked into them, and his breath caught slightly. "What's wrong?" Kurt asked.

Blaine's eyes dropped to his lap, and he sighed. He chewed on his lip in thought, wondering if it'd be wise to trust Kurt, not because he thought Kurt would be mean or cruel with the information, but because he would _tell_, and Blaine can't let him tell. People had to _see _or _know_, but he couldn't _tell _them because he'd tried before and that doesn't work, it never works. It just makes him more angry, Blaine learned, a lesson he'd be suicidal to forget even for a second.

So Blaine smiled tiredly, because he'd also learned that the best lies are half-truths, and made an excuse about losing sleep since the move. Kurt seemed reluctant to accept the excuse, and Blaine panicked for a minute because what if he already knows? Blaine's a bad actor, has brought too much attention to himself, and we can't have that, Blaine. _We can't have that, Blaine._

Blaine released a shaky breath. Kurt had mercifully moved on from the topic and was now avidly criticizing Blaine's Katy Perry choice, which compelled Blaine to point out it was on _Kurt's _iPod which in turn had Kurt admit he'd downloaded it because he thought Blaine would like it seeing as he'd always been obsessed with romance, courage, and bouncing around with an overwhelmed child's crazed enthusiasm on all available surfaces, not sparing poor couchs and tables.

Their pseudo-bickering lasted until they parked in front of Blaine's house, until an hour and a half after they'd parked when they'd continued to sit in the car, laughing and smiling and yelling and singing until Blaine was belting out lyrics and giggling more than he'd done in a very long time, and Blaine was hard-pressed to remember another time when he'd ever been so happy.

He didn't think there was one.

* * *

Dinner that night was stilted, awkward and full of repressed anger and tension.

Blaine had been smiling widely, excited and happy and blissful, talking almost non-stop about the sun and the moon and the stars and anything that caught his mind and reminded him of a certain pale beauty. His mom seemed surprised at his sudden reanimation because it had been so long since she'd seen that boy, but she eventually smiled and asked what made him so happy. When he glanced at his father, seeing the disapproving look on his face, he responded to his mom with a half-truth ("New friends"), mood considerably dampened by his father's frown and increasingly sour face.

After being excused, he went upstairs to complete some homework. His cellphone dinged an hour into doing so, and he reached over his bed to unhook it from the charger and swipe it unlocked. "Kurt?" he breathed, whispering so his dad wouldn't hear him speaking, wouldn't come upstairs.

"Blaine," Kurt's bubbly voice greeted. "I'm outside."

Blaine tip-toed to his window and pulled back the blinds. Standing under the light of a street lamp was Kurt, who waved enthusiasticly when he saw Blaine. Blaine waved back, asking incredulously, "What in the world are you doing here?"

"Well, I wanted to surprise you," Kurt explained, a picnic basket in his hand along with a set of speakers, a small, quilted blanket and a bouquet of red and white roses. "How do you feel about a little karaoke under the stars?"

* * *

Blaine laughed as he danced through the cemetary, green grass slipping between his bare toes, cold and slick on his soles. Kurt sat on the blanket, smiling fondly, their picnic settled around him, leaning on the face of a smooth slab of stone bearing a familiar name.

Blaine had been surprised at first when Kurt had invited him to go on a picnic with him out of the blue. It was late, last-minute, and spontaneous. Not that Blaine believed Kurt was a stickler for all rules or wasn't able to be spontaneous when he wanted to be, it was just unexpected, completely out-of-character thus far. It made perfect sense, however, once Kurt explained it, and Blaine felt extrememly touched to be a part of it.

Kurt made weekly visits to his mother's grave to tell her about new developments and life, each time with a beautiful bouquet of flowers of various assortments. He would sit there and talk, maybe sing songs or simply lie in front of her gravestone in the peaceful quiet and serenity of the night, sharing his breath and life.

But this night, Kurt had invited him to be a part of it, a part of the time he spent with his mother, something special he didn't even wake Burt to do, to invite to. Blaine felt slightly overwhelmed to be included.

Blaine had snuck out of his house, silent as possible, his mother and father seated in the livingroom watching television as he slipped out of the kitchen door. Kurt had been waiting, an excited smile plastered on his face, hair styled casually, a slimming pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and a black vest on, a jacket tossed over for warmth. Blaine had smiled and followed Kurt as Kurt led him across the street to the gates of the cemetary. Blaine's breath had caught in his throat when Kurt had revealed why they were going, and when Kurt asked if he wanted to see his mother again, Blaine said he'd be honored.

They'd exchanged memories of Elizabeth and her smiles and cooking and love and heart, Blaine even crying as he remembered because he'd never gotten a proper goodbye. Then, they ate, placing a glass on Elizabeth's grave, along with the roses, and sung songs, sad songs, joyful songs, silly songs. They shared their lives through the songs when words simply wouldn't do.

Now, Blaine was determined to make Kurt smile because they'd just finished a sad ballad that'd had Kurt in tears, and his efforts were working. Blaine twirled across the patchs of grass with a flourish, singing, "You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream.." while Kurt swayed slightly to the beat, tears still streaming down his face, but freely and happily, highlighting the joyful blush on his cheeks and the merry glimmer in his eyes.

Blaine swirled his hips and swooned as he sang, snapping and side-stepping. Kurt watched with a smile, and when the song ended and Blaine bowed exaggeratedly, snatching imaginary roses from a just as figurative crowd, Kurt laughed and leaned forward, grabbing Blaine's arm and pulling him back down onto the blanket with him.

Blaine protested about disappointed fans and encore numbers, but he smiled happily and went willingly, flopping onto the ground. Laying together on their backs, they looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky, breathing heavily.

"Do you think she's still watching?" Kurt asked quietly after a few moments, turning his face to look at Blaine.

Blaine smiled and said, "Of course she is. She wouldn't take her eyes off of you for a second, forever protecting you from bullies down the street and cute, charming little boys with stylish bowties."

"Especially when they're as modest as you," Kurt teased. Blaine grinned cheekily. Turning fully on his side, Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes. Kurt slowly moved his hand down the blanket and tentatively entwined his fingers with Blaine's, whose own fingers were slightly chilly and sweaty.

Blaine's eyes widened slightly and he opened his mouth, but Kurt shushed him, other hand tenderly cupping Blaine's cheek, index finger playing softly over his bottom lip. "Blaine," Kurt whispered. He looked down for a moment, breathing deeply, before he recaptured Blaine's earnest gaze.

Kurt leaned forward slightly, titling his head, lips close to Blaine's, breath mixing. His eyes darted from Blaine's wide hazel eyes to his plump lips, asking permission. Blaine's eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned forward and closed the distance between their lips.

Chapped lips pressed against wet ones, and Blaine's breathing hitched. Kurt tasted like mint and strawberries, and Blaine pressed his lips closer. Kurt's tongue traced along his lower lip, and Blaine opened his mouth immediately, welcoming Kurt into himself. The warmth filled Blaine to his toes.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed under the moonlight and leaves, but he was shivering when they left, and he wasn't certain if that was because of the chill of the cold or the tangible memory of Kurt's lips on his.

* * *

When Blaine slipped back into the house that night, he found his father sleeping in his armchair, snores echoing in the living room. Blaine hurriedly stepped past him and up the stairs, doing his best to make as little noise as possible and avoid creaky steps.

As he lay in his bed, Blaine prayed silently to a God he didn't believe in and willed his father not to wake up, to stay asleep, to stay asleep.

As the wind howled outside and the house creaked, Blaine hid under his blanket, buried deep away from the world.

He didn't hear the faint footsteps that creeped up the stairs around three in the morning, pausing in front of his room before continuing on, hardly ever there.

* * *

He must have dosed lightly during the morning because he jolted into alertness around six thirty, hearing the door slam and the car start, his father setting off to work. He went downstairs once he was sure his father wasn't coming back, and made breakfast for himself and his mother. She stumbled into the kitchen moments after he finshed cooking, large bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep, hair mussed and pulled, clothing askew. Blaine served both their plates, and they ate in silence.

After cleaning the dishes, he went upstairs and changed into his school clothing, carefully picking every article right down to his black ankle socks. He tied to his neck a purple bowtie, striped with black, to match his cardigan and pants, and tamed his hair. He pulled his satchel over his arm and set off for the bus.

Halfway down the road, almost at the bus stop now, a car honked loudly from behind him. His heart stuttered and he felt a momentary panic.

But it was only Kurt.

Kurt was driving alongside him now, waving, and asking, "Want a lift, stranger?" wide grin blazoned across his face. Blaine smiled, and Kurt pulled over to the side of the street, letting the car idle as Blaine opened the door and got in, pulling the seatbelt over his chest and buckling himself in. Kurt leaned over the console of the car and placed a gentle kiss on Blaine's mouth once, twice. Blaine could feel Kurt's smile against his lips, and he smiled back helplessly.

Kurt jerked away suddenly when a car honked as it passed, a coarse "Faggots!" spat at them. Blaine startled, but breathed deeply, hands gripping his seatbelt tightly, knuckles whitening. Kurt patted his hand apologetically, and Blaine smiled weakly as they pulled back onto the road and drove to school in silence.

When they reached McKinley, Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand in his, squeezing confidently before letting go. "Courage," Kurt whispered, and Blaine's smile was genuine as Kurt walked him to his first period class.

* * *

Blaine began noticing subtle differences in Kurt when he was around certain people since they began to be unofficially together.

In front of the school population in general, Kurt was aloof and untouchable, always sitting with Puck and David, two of the most feared boys at the school, even when he sat with Blaine at the Glee table with Tina, which was almost always now.

His clothing was different at school, too, more generic, plain, and masculine, although certainly touched up by Kurt and styled to a satisfactory fashion. He kept a remote distance from everyone in the school's public eye except Blaine, Brittany, and Finn, not even perfectly himself in front of the school with Noah and David, who spent a lot of time with them.

In Glee club, Kurt loosened up more. He smiled more often and was more affectionate. He laughed and participated in singing, even argued for solos and critiqued everyone's fashion. Sometimes, he'd wear an extra accessory he'd saved in his pocket all day, usually a pin or broach.

Blaine loved Glee club because Kurt would spend the entire period with him, talking music and movies and anything that came to mind, even if David still glared at Blaine most of the time. Kurt glowed in Glee club, and Blaine warmed from the light.

But if Kurt glowed in Glee club, it was nothing compared to how he shined when it was just Blaine and him. Kurt's smile was blinding, and he chattered happily about inane things, a scarf he had his eye on at the mall, how his father's campaign was progresssing, the latest Pattie Lupone novel, the newest season of clothing in Vogue or any Broadway musical or song he was thinking about. Sometimes, he'd just sit with Blaine, and the silence was never uncomfortable. It usually led to them kissing, and Blaine loved these moments more and more.

Blaine loved every moment spent with Kurt, whether they were studying, talking with friends, or just by themselves. He loved every single lingering one, but he loved the quiet moments together the most because, in these moments, Kurt would whisper how beautiful Blaine was, how gorgeous, how his eyes sparkled with innocence and made Kurt want him, how sexy he looked with a swollen mouth and wide eyes, flushed cheeks and parted lips. He'd bite Blaine's ear lightly just to hear Blaine whimper, and he'd tell Blaine what that did to him and how hot it was, how gorgeous he was.

Blaine never felt as loved as he did than in these moments, as wanted, where Kurt lavished praise on him in bountiful heaps, hands exploring and worshipful. Blaine would arch into Kurt's touches and beg for more, and Kurt would tease and reassure until Blaine was a pleading mess, sweaty and writhing in Kurt's capable arms. Kurt would give him exactly what he needed, and Blaine always needed it badly, desperately when Kurt finally gave it to him, and it cleansed Blaine and made him feel pure. He needed Kurt to tell him how good he was, how well he did, he needed it desperately.

They snuck more moments together whenever possible, Blaine lying to his parents, claiming they had study sessions and Glee club songs to practice, every possible excuse to leave the house or be alone in Blaine's room.

It wasn't always about sex, either. It hardly ever was, actually, because everything they did was about love. They'd watch a movie, Kurt's fingers carding through Blaine's hair, Blaine's head resting on his chest, and it'd be loving. They'd talk for hours about nothing and everything, and it was love. They'd lay in bed, panting heavily, lips pressed together, hands clutching, brusing, legs tangled, and it'd be lovely.

The only problem was that everyone knew (assumed), even if they never said anything, and when everyone knew, no one knew, and it scared Blaine more than he'd like to admit.

* * *

It simmered up to a boiling point on one hot spring day. School hadn't quite let out, and Blaine had arrived a bit late into the school year in any case. He hadn't experienced much of the winter here, and the scorching heat of the day tempted him to remain under the cool sheets of his bed, so he wouldn't have to yet experience the summer. However, Kurt's promises of ice cream, movie marathons and an empty house afterschool persuaded Blaine to go.

After Glee Club, Blaine waited for Kurt at his car, sitting on the hood. When Kurt walked up, he was flanked by Puck and David, the former waving absently and the latter glaring. Blaine returned Puck's wave and ignored David altogether, raising an eyebrow at Kurt in question. "I know, we were supposed to study today, but it can wait," Kurt said placatingly. Blaine's eyebrow lifted higher at the lie (they had no plans to _study_), but he stayed silent. He knew they were hiding their relationship as nothing more than close childhood friends because Kurt hadn't come out yet, but Blaine thought Kurt might tell Puck and David. Or at least Puck.

"Thing is," Puck intejected, swinging an arm around Kurt's shoulders, "Kurt here is finally free for the evening, and we thought we'd take the opportunity to escape this hot ass weather and go to the lake. You in, Anderson?"

"The lake?" Blaine asked dubiously. He wasn't particularly fond of large bodies of water. Or any sized ones, as it was.

"Sure," David said. "What, are you afraid of the water, Blainey?" Blaine eyed him disdainfully.

Kurt raised his hand authoritively, and David looked properly chatised without Kurt having to say anything. Still, David glared balefully at Blaine when Kurt looked away from him. "Puck, why don't you and David head out already? Blaine and I will meet you guys there."

"Kurt," David protested. Kurt's highly patented bitch face glared David into submission.

"Alright, Princess," Puck said, twirling his car keys around his finger and slapping David on the back. "Don't get your panties in a twist. We'll head that way now. Come on, Karofsky." Puck pushed David along to his truck and waved at Kurt in parting.

"Well, come on, Blaine. Let's go get permission," Kurt smiled.

* * *

Pulling up in front of Hummel's Tire and Lube, Kurt shut off the engine and looked over at Blaine. "I just have to tell my dad that we're going," Kurt said. "Do you want to come in with me? We'll go to your house after." Blaine looked over at his driveway, noting that his dad's car wasn't there, then nodded at Kurt. "Great," Kurt smiled. He got out of the car, Blaine doing the same, and they entered the shop together.

"Dad," Kurt called, entering the garage. Blaine could hear the whir of several tools, the squeak of wheels, and the lifting of a car. Burt Hummel was under a car presently and wheeled himself out from underneath, a grin on his face.

Standing up and grabbing an oil-stained rag to wipe his hands on, Burt greeted, "Hey, boys. What do I owe the pleasure?"

Kurt gave Burt a hug. "Noah, David, Blaine and I were going to go to the lake," Kurt explained. "Is that okay? We'll be back by seven."

"Of course, kid," Burt smiled. "Do you need some clothes for you and Blaine?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd get some of the extra clothes we left in the loft upstairs," Kurt said.

"Alright," Burt agreed. Kurt went inside to retrieve the clothes, leaving Blaine outside with Burt. Blaine smiled at Burt nervously, and Burt chuckled. "Nice to see you again, Blaine."

"Nice to see you, too, sir," Blaine replied promptly, politely.

Burt shook his head and walked over to Blaine. Placing a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder, he said, "It's Burt, kid. Listen, Blaine, I've been wanting to talk to you about Kurt."

"Really?" Blaine asked. Blaine wondered anxiously if Burt knew about him and Kurt. Kurt had told Blaine that he hadn't come out to his father yet (which had explained why Kurt and he weren't together at school and why he was 'dating' Brittany). Blaine didn't want to give them away.

"Yeah, look, I've noticed you and Kurt have been becoming closer. Hell, you come over so often and Kurt goes over to yours so often you might as well be living togther," Burt chuckled. "I just wanted to say, I'm really glad you and Kurt are friends. He needs a positive influence in his life, you know? You guys were real good friends when you were kids, then you moved and Elizabeth died. He's had some tough years, and I was worried about him," Burt said. Blaine nodded. Burt looked around for a moment, maybe looking out for Kurt, before saying, "Noah and David, sometimes I wonder if they're the best type of people for Kurt to surround himself with. I feel like he's been hiding stuff from me since they came around. I'm glad you guys moved back, for whatever reason you guys did. I hope you stay around for awhile. And not just for Kurt," Burt added. "Blaine, you're a good kid. I think of you like a son. If you ever need anything, just tell me, okay?" Burt clapped Blaine's shoulder affectionately, and Blaine smiled.

"Thanks, Burt," Blaine said sincerely. It was nice to have Burt on his side, to have a father figure he could maybe depend on. He hadn't had that in a long time, and it was comforting. He thought maybe, eventually, he could tell Burt, and Burt could do something. Anything, but no, because then-

-Kurt re-entered the room. Beaming at them, he lifted up two pairs of shorts and a couple of towels. "Let's go."

* * *

Blaine's mom agreed easily, but with a cryptic comment. "He's been in a mood all day," she had said, meaning Blaine's father. "I tried to keep him in bed last night, but he didn't sleep."

Blaine tried to remember this was bad, but Kurt's bright smile when his mom said he could go made him forget what he was worried about.

* * *

The drive to the lake was broken only by the soft drift of Kurt's playlist sounding in the background. When they parked, Puck and David visible in the distance, Blaine tapped Kurt on the shoulder. "Yeah, Blaine?" Kurt asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"I have a confession to make." Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "I can't swim," Blaine admitted, eyes lowered.

Kurt remained silent for a moment before he finally said,"Then you can watch me." Blaine said nothing. "Or I can teach you," Kurt offered.

"Oh, I don't think so," Blaine protested. Kurt smiled at him and got out of the car. Blaine followed sedately.

The lake was clean enough, a light blue expanse of water. A large tree, fit with a wooden tree house and a rope swing, slouched over the lake, shading the small wooden pier jaunting out from the dirt. Kurt, standing with Blaine behind the truck, quickly undressed to his underwear. Blaine stared absently for a moment at the pale, milky skin, innocently exposed as Kurt pulled on a pair of swim trunks.

Blaine jolted out of it when Kurt snapped in his face, laughing at Blaine's dazed expression. "Get dressed, perv," Kurt said teasingly, "and meet me over at the pier." Then, he took off running towards the tree house, dead set on the rope swing.

Blaine quickly stripped off his clothing, pulling on the other pair of trunks and walking to the pier where David was pulling himself out of the water. Puck was wading in the middle of the lake, cheering when Kurt grabbed the rope and prepared to swing off. "Blaine," Kurt called. "Watch me!" Blaine lifted a hand as a visor to block out the sun as Kurt swung with the rope swing, long limbs clenching and stretching before letting go and popping into the water, drops of liquid raising in a miniature shower, oval rings waving along the water's surface.

Kurt surfaced, laughing excitedly, and waved over at Blaine, pushing wet chestnut hair out of his face. Blaine returned the smile, but it fell when he felt David's imposing prescence behind him. "I'm glad you came out with us today, Blaine," David said.

"Thanks, David," Blaine replied uneasily, confused. Blaine was ninety percent sure David didn't like him, so, while weird, it wasn't precisely unwelcome behavior. Blaine hoped David might be ready to take a step forward and put this petty jealousy aside.

"So," David continued, "are you gonna get in?"

"No," Blaine replied. The water looked deep, and David looked unfriendly.

David walked closer, back almost pressed against Blaine's. "You should," David insisted. "Here, I'll help." David reached to push Blaine in, but Blaine twisted away.

"David," Kurt called, wading towards them. "David, leave him alone. He can't swim."

"Really? Maybe I can help, Kurt, really. Maybe he'll swim if I throw him in," David said, grabbing Blaine's arm. Blaine shoved him off forcefully.

"David, stop," Kurt ordered, pulling himself out of the water. David grabbed Blaine's arm again, and Blaine pushed him back. Kurt moved between them before a fight could break out. "Stop it," Kurt said to David. Blaine's hands clenched into agitated fists, but he backed away. David looked ready to continue, so Kurt pushed him away. "Stop it."

David's eyes widened, and then he tried to laugh it off. "I didn't push him in, Kurt. It was a joke. I should have, though," he added. At Kurt's glare, David explained, "He has to learn how to swim somehow."

"David," Kurt sighed, glancing at Puck, who was glaring at David, "it's nice of you to show some concern, but I'm going to teach him." David backed off, raising his hands in surrender. Kurt looked at him warily before turning back to Blaine. "Come on, Blaine," Kurt said, smiling again. "I'll teach you how to swim."

* * *

Later that day, around six thirty, Kurt and Blaine found themselves in the back seat of Kurt's car, parked in Blaine's driveway. Blaine was in Kurt's lap, writhing and squirming, letting out stuttered little breaths and moaning lowly. Kurt's hands were rucking up Blaine's shirt in the back, fingers running over hot skin, dipping to the waist band of Blaine's pants. "Oh," Blaine breathed into Kurt's ear when Kurt thrust up. His fingers tightened where they gripped Kurt's shoulders, and his vision spotted when Kurt's hand grabbed a handful of his ass with one hand, the other hand in his hair, pulling his head back so he could mouth down the smooth column of Blaine's neck. "_Kurt_."

Kurt hummed with pleasure, hips rocking up, varying from gentle pulses to hard thrusts. Blaine's eyes rolled back in his head when pleasure sparked down his spine to his groin, and he slowly moved his hands down Kurt's chest, hands pausing to twist at Kurt's pebbled nipples. Placing his hands on Kurt's hips, he massaged his thumbs on Kurt's hip bone, fingers trailing lower. Kurt groaned lowly, teeth nipping at Blaine's neck.

Blaine grinned wickedly as he unbuttoned Kurt's pants, lifting his hips slightly to pull them down to his knees, along with Kurt's underwear. Taking him in hand, Blaine quickly brought Kurt to the edge and over, expert twists of his wrist and swipes of his thumb, the heat of his mouth sucking expertly at the very end making Kurt cry out and come. Blaine rutted against Kurt until he came, then collapsed onto Kurt's body, resting his head against his shoulder.

When they'd both caught their breaths, Kurt pushed Blaine off of him. Blaine frowned, hurt, when Kurt turned away from him, pulling up his pants roughly and buttoning them, tugging his shirt into place. "What's wrong?" Blaine asked. He didn't understand. Hadn't he done well?

Kurt was looking out of the window, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. His foot tapped agitatedly on the floor of the car and his hand clenched and unclenched into a fist on his lap. He turned towards Blaine after what had felt like forever, and asked roughly, "Are you a virgin, Blaine?" Blaine flushed and looked down at his lap, saying nothing. Kurt continued, "Because I thought we were each other's firsts, you know, and we've never done _that _before, but you knew how." Kurt's eyes were angry, and Blaine winced because Kurt was jealous, jealous of nobody. "And I'm starting to wonder who you're sleeping with."

Blaine jolted back as though he'd been struck, and he looked up at Kurt, beautiful and sweet Kurt who looked anything but beautiful and sweet just then. Blaine smacked his eyes shut because this wasn't Kurt, it wasn't. Kurt continued again in the silence, this time his voice rising angrily. "Who are you sleeping with, Blaine?" he snapped. Blaine flinched and pressed into the seat, hands clenching nervously.

"Nobody," Blaine mumbled quickly. "I'm yours, I promise, Kurt. I'm not, I'm not sleeping with anybody, I promise."

"Then, where'd you learn how to do that?" Kurt demanded.

"I-" Blaine didn't have an answer. "Nowhere," he said eventually because Kurt was waiting, he was _waiting_, Blaine. "No one taught me, I don't know, I don't know where." His knees knocked together and he pulled lint off of his pants nervously with his fingers. He glanced up at Kurt again, who wasn't looking at him.

After a long, tense moment, Kurt climbed into the driver's seat, snapped on his seatbelt, and started the car. He didn't say anything as he let the car idle, but Blaine climbed out of the car anyway, taking his satchel with him. He turned to go to the driver's side and say goodbye, but Kurt had already pulled out of the driveway.

As Kurt sped off down the street, Blaine wondered if he'd done well after all.

* * *

That night, Blaine heard the creaking of the stairs and the flicker of a light switch.

His eyes snapped open and his heart thumped wildly. The steps paused in the hallway, right in front of his door, the shadow of a body clear under the door. Blaine held his breath, praying, praying.

"Blaine," his father's voice slurred, hand dragging on the wood of the door. "Blaine, I know you're awake."

Blaine's heart rate sped up. He pulled his blanket up to his nose and breathed deeply. He thought about Kurt and tried to forget. If he tried hard enough, he could still taste mint and smell strawberries, remember his smile and the sweep of his hair, the warmth of his arms and the caress of his skin before.. But he wasn't remembering that.

A hand landed on the door and the knob began to rattle. Blaine shrank further in his blankets, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He sighed in relief when his mother's voice called out for his father from the bottom of the stairs. "Come back to bed, honey. Blaine's tired, he has school tomorrow."

"I'm just checking on my son," his father's voice replied gruffy, but unsurely. "I didn't say you could go, Blaine. Your mom said, I didn't." He stood in the door way, but the light from behind only let Blaine see his silhouette. The stench of alcohol penetrated the air. Blaine pulled the blanket higher. His father took a step forward.

"You promised me you wouldn't bother him," he heard his mom breathe, begging now. "Please, you promised."

His father wavered in the door for a moment, and then asked Blaine abruptly, "Did you have fun, Blaine?" Blaine said nothing, the roar of blood in his ears stopping and starting his heart, and he couldn't catch his breath. "Answer me, Blaine, or I'm coming in there."

"Yes, sir," Blaine breathed, quickly, pressing back against his pillows.

Blaine's father nodded slowly, expression unreadable, hesitating again in the doorway, before leaving and closing the door behind him. Blaine sagged with gratitude when he heard the footsteps trail away from his bedroom and down the hall.

* * *

Blaine didn't sleep that night.

Instead, he tied together old shoelaces, a small makeshift tripwire to span the length from his bedpost to his dresser. The pillows puffing under the blanket decently shaped his body as he lay on the floor behind his bed, shoes on, school clothes pulled over pajamas.

His eyes remained wide throughout the night, and he remembered Kurt's smile when he heard the grunt of his father falling, hands clutching the pillowed him, and the screech of his mother calling, "Did he touch you?" as he ran down the stairs and out of the kitchen door into the dark night until he reached the tall trees and stone slabs and collapsed.

* * *

The morning was cold and unwelcoming, not the least because he woke to his father calling for him. Blaine snapped upright, back pressed against the wide stone of Elizabeth's grave, hidden.

As the crunch of leaves announced his father's departure, his head snapped against the headstone and his fingers dug into the mud and grass of the ground.

He stayed there until he heard the burn out of his father's car leaving.

* * *

_**End part 1.**_

* * *

**A/N**: Review? I'll update as fast as I am inspired.


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